Bhutan

USTOA Travel Blog

Just as Galileo had made headlines with his findings of the universe, some seven-thousand kilometers away, the great unifier Zhabdrung had just tossed a replica of the sacred Buddhist relic into the Mochu River. This implausible gambit, midst a grim and unflattering outlook, had effectively ended the Tibetan invasion. The Tibetans’ efforts were subsequently rendered useless, as that which was sought had then been believed lost, and they vacated the land that would resultantly become known as Bhutan.

But the seventeenth century was really just a domino in the methodical Rube Goldberg contraption of this country, as well as its neighboring powers. Bhutan and Nepal are respectively, two, remarkably and alluringly ornate lands, built on tales as unremittingly unbelievable as they are true. They are places that upon touring, and upon experiencing first hand, remind one of the sheer, enormity of Earth and the perpetual motion that is time’s ability to craft a culture. I was met with this sort of awe each moment of my journey with Luxury Gold, as our traveling concierge kept my journal occupied, and my camera at the ready. It isn’t only the absorption of undiluted insight, but the ability to participate interactively, that stamps this page of the world with gold.

Surveying outward from Swayambhunath Temple, one has a radial view of Kathmandu. It’s one of those views that elicits speechlessness for its beauty, as much as it haunts you with its endlessness. This was one of those moments that generate that awe; it ushers in your understanding of the world. The tenor of prayers compete only with the bicker of Nepali Assamese monkeys; and the sensation of uneven stone beneath your feet is only offset further by the entrancing spinning of the stupa’s wheels. I had been intercepted by such awe repeatedly, not only by magnificent and blatant demonstrations of culture, but also by those which one would be so quick otherwise to pass by. I cannot help but remain confident in the success of these moments as a direct result of the Luxury Gold itinerary. To spin a globe and flip an atlas is merely preparatory; to subscribe to a program so vivid in its strokes of any one culture is scholastic in itself. Our small group was provided truly unique insight into Kathmandu Valley and the countryside of Western Bhutan; from vetted views of the famous Punakha Dzong, sharing the sanctity of silence in Paro’s holiest temples with the Buddhist masters, to meandering a nearby rice-terrace village, and even hearing firsthand, over a french-prepared Nepali meal, the hurdles of scaling Everest from Shailee Basnet. Pacing a quiet Punakha corridor, observing nothing too blaring but the everyday of a riverside collection of facades, muted in color and calm in chatter at an early dusk— this window into a culture’s ordinary is, to me, just as consequential in one’s self-realization and that of our planet’s many other inhabitants.

You have no idea. You think you do. You don’t. The magnitude; the incomprehensible, immeasurable vastness of resources; humans, the hands they tool with, exchange with, and love with. Everything, everyone you see; it all exists, and always has, concurrently and withstanding of your input. You were not here to witness it, but the tree does in fact fall. Billions of souls in the first person, in millions of places, and trillions of routines, all contribute to the awe; transoceanic, and antipodean.

So, just as we scroll headlines here, somewhere on some side of some sea, someone else is making them, while the reciprocal remains true. It won’t always be shaping kingdoms or dodging invasions, and that’s okay. These are the sort of journeys that live to tell, that are survived by our study, and make the ongoing clock of our history on Earth, a bit softer.

Ryan is a filmmaker, first and foremost, with 12 years’ experience. But he keeps his hands callused by a number of other projects, including: photography, branding initiatives, city guides, and community organization. He’s a passionate storyteller and believes if you aren’t having fun, it’s not worth doing and that easy roads are seldom worth the tales to which they take you.

“Chilis,” Dorji responded. I hadn’t yet asked the question, but drawing from the gaze I wore at the passing valley as our tour descended unto the mountain Kingdom of Bhutan, he’d preemptively and accurately answered. Why are the roofs painted red? They weren’t painted, of course. Their otherwise galvanized grayness had been extinguished by drying reams of red peppers. This agriculturally thriving, and carbon-negative Himalayan country, employ this crop as a staple of their daily intake; each Bhutanese, sometimes breakfast, always lunch, and with great inexorability, dinner. While the greatly unknown people, are known greatly for their untaxed happiness and elevated beliefs, they aren’t without a proud captivation ofCapsicums.

Our Luxury Gold adventure was led by Dorji, our traveling concierge. Spanning Kathmandu, Thimphu, Paro and Punakha, this was effortlessly as much a VIP experience as it was one which invited an educational harvest, permitting myself and my small group to absorb each and every drop of insight with which this magnificent place showered us. Once in the kingdom, we’d learnt quickly of Bhutan’s customs and traditions; its global history and localized future. We functioned seamlessly within its sustainability, admired its coniferous awe, and opened ourselves to its religion and its keepers’ hospitality. In all of this, in all of this rapid adaptation and navigation of such a far, far land, there was one thing that none of us could have foresaw— these chilis. Be it a fortress, be it a monastery, a dwelling or field; chilis laid and chilis hanged, patriotically, from the beams, plaster and boards. Like flags of faith, they dried along strands, and in troves, they dried atop the roofs and awnings. Sun-kissed, rain-drenched, raked and fallen, these Bhutanese chilis became something of the pages by which we read the story of Druk yul. They served as a precious commonality of the Bhutanese people, rubies of Bhutan.

I awoke one morning to considerately soft birds at a very blue dawn. I’d fallen subject to a particularly luxurious evening of dining and relaxation at the property of one of our scheduled stays. Dorji had arranged with me the evening prior, to lead me up the country’s most well-attended trail; to Paro Taktsang, (Tiger’s Nest). This excursion had merely been one example of his attentiveness to ensuring our experiences were thoroughly tailored to our individual preferences. Being from Arizona, I had shared my advocacy for hiking with him, and in this, he had completely gone above and beyond in awarding me a personalized trek up the mountain. The two of us managed to cut the anticipated six-hour mountainous march to the ten-thousand-foot sacred site nearly in half. This afforded us the opportunity to rejoin the group for a home-hosted lunch in Paro Valley below.

With legs strained and mouths parched from the sparse air above, this was a meal we were not positioned to pass. We abandoned our dusty heels at the threshold of a traditional, timber door, and sat along the floor of warm and well-lit wooden walls. Our host, fluent in English, (as her fourth language, unsurprisingly), proceeded with her mother to prepare in front of us, Ema datshi— what some would know as the national dish of Bhutan. While she carved away at home-prepared cow’s cheese and tomatoes, she quite practically shared with us that these chilis, the star of this, (and as I’ve mentioned, every), dish were also grown within her plot. This famed and national intercrop, seen across land, peak to peak and valley to river, consumes ninety-percent of her garden— and its yield? Seemingly, not enough.

The dish, of course, was remarkable. The heat of the pepper, not something my English-American tongue had been privy to, was in this case rather consoling. I really can’t say as to whether my ability to tolerate the pepper at each meal was a case of my desire to fit in, or the simple fact it’d been prepared so inherently and successfully within every plate. Greater than this vegetable, there lies a larger symbiosis of Bhutan’s chili and those who grow it. The exchange between the two is a direct reflection of a people excited of their culture, and a culture grown by those who tend to it.

The following morning, preceding our return to Nepal, I met with my new friend. Good morning! What did you have for breakfast, Dorji? “Chilis,” Dorji, responded.

Ryan is a filmmaker, first and foremost, with 12 years’ experience. But he keeps his hands callused by a number of other projects, including: photography, branding initiatives, city guides, and community organization. He’s a passionate storyteller and believes if you aren’t having fun, it’s not worth doing and that easy roads are seldom worth the tales to which they take you.

United States Tour Operators Association (USTOA) is a professional, voluntary trade association created with the primary purpose of promoting integrity within the tour operator industry. USTOA is not a tour operator and it does not conduct tours, but our members do.